I can’t remember which of the girls lit the candles or the fire. It seems incongruous, little flickers of firelight framing our faces in the mirror, casting shadows over Dad’s things. But all of us appreciate the warmth.

It is weeks since any of us have been here; weeks since his unexpected departure to the hospice that we all thought would be for just a few days. But here we were; a life once so full reduced to last week’s coffin and a roomful of dusty objects.